Oranje Maple
by QueenCelestiaxyv
Summary: Netherlands visits Canada. Human names used.


**Oranje Maple**

**Author:** Queen Celestia

**Betareader:** deadricgirl

**Disclaimer:** Do not own or make money off of Hetalia

**Warnings:** Sexytimes with Canada and Netherlands.

**AN:** Happy Canada day

Xxxxxx

Something was not quite right. Off to say.

No matter how much he knocked, there was no answer, and no answer meant that the longer he waited the more likely he was to be late to watch the game.

Matthew usually answered, he was usually up by at least six in the morning, making pancakes, exercising, what have you. So to not have him answer the door was entirely disconcerting.

With concern mainly on his mind [and obviously not of course that within an hour Netherlands would be playing Brasil, and he so didn't want to watch this game alone or with that annoyingly smug Brasilian] he had decided to visit Matthew. Matthew who's absence was easily passed off as 'celebrating his birthday', by a rather bitter Alfred, who after his team had been annexed, had sulked off back to America.

Delicately jigging the lock, a skill that he never would admit to having, he opened the door, and stepped into the shadowed house.

Matthews house in his capital wasn't very large, in fact, it was pretty small – the way Matthew preferred it.

Actually, not that Lars himself would openly say, but he also preferred the smaller house, not big and pretentious like his brother liked to be with his mansions everywhere.

Following the smell of rank alcohol, and the concerning trail of clothes, he entered the living room, where the TV was on to CBC news, the loud voice of the lady droning on about the Queens visit. His foot hit beer cans, and empty Polar Ice bottles, letting out a loud clatter, and nudging one of the empty bottles to roll towards the sleeping pretty much naked man on the floor, face smooshed into carpet.

"Matthew?" Lars barked out, feeling out of depth to see such an out of depth Canadian – what could have – oh shit, it had been his birthday the other day totally forgot about that with the FIFA angst – "Matthew?"

He nudged the Canadian over onto his back, and that is where his mind control and thoughts went completely blank.

The Canadian was completely nude, except for a brilliant orange thong. A thong that seemed a little bit too small, from the way his vital regions bulged against it, lifting it up just a little bit, revealing tantalising glimpses of skin.

Thought processes seemed to slowly crank back into action the first one being 'Conservative seeming Canada prances around in thongs?' with 'Orange.. fuck yeah, mmm orange, should have fucking made him orange sooner' followed by, 'Is he still alive?'

Crouching down, Lars held his hand over the Canadian's mouth and nose, to make sure he was still breathing, satisfied, he slapped the Canadian's face.

An indistinguishable sound came out of the Canadian, before violet eyes fluttered open, and stared blankly up in confusion.

"Eh?"

"Wakey wakey birthday boy."

"Mmhhtrhre fucking yesterday." Came the grumble, before Matthew curled up onto his side, and attempted to bury his face in the carpet.

And then Lars thoughts seemed to switch gears, as he watched the pale skinned mans body ripple, the muscle tone clear from hours of hockey practice, and then gruelling summer days of lacrosse.

The thong seemed to be buried deeply in his as, a thin line of orange barely visible, and Lars could feel every thought and action hitting straight where it counted most.

And that was the point where he decided he fucking didn't care anymore.

Taking out his camera phone, he snapped pictures of the entire scene of alcoholic carnage, before shifting his attention to the semi awake Canadian, making sure to get the thong prominantly in.

"If you don't wake up and cure your hang over in the next five seconds, I'll send England a picture of you sleeping in an orange thong." Came the statement.

"Fuuucccck you hoser," came the groan, "Fucccck."

However, the Canadian sat up, glaring at the TV, before glaring at the Dutch man. "Why in beavers tail are you here?"

"Because we are going to watch Netherlands beat up Brasil! That's why!"

Growling, Matthew unsteadily stood up – his balance wasn't too good, as he stumbled over a beer can, and crashed into the larger Dutch man.

Hot skin, soft blond hair, and a grumpy expression of annoyance was all Lars could think and feel, before, after a moment, and a groan, the Canadian pushed off of him, before stumbling out into the kitchen to make a hangover cure.

The thong clung tightly, seeming to heighten the soft globes of the Canadian's ass, as he left the room, and Lars quickly took another picture.

Bangs in the kitchen, as well as the sound of a blender.

Deciding that he didn't want to be cheering on his team in amongst a mess of empty bottles, Lars bent down, and began to form them into one corner, his eyes falling yet again to the vodka bottles, and smirking slightly at the fact that it was maple vodka. Of course.

A few moments after he had finished sort of cleaning up, the Canadian shuffled into the room, scratching his chest, and then stared blankly at Lars once again. He seemed more awake, although he squinted abit.

"Do you know where my glasses are?"

Lars frowned, and then looked around the room, "Over here. Hold on."

A few moments, and he was stood before the Canadian, slipping on glasses, violet eyes seeming to become clearer.

"Thanks… how did you get in?"

A glance to the side, then a shrug, "Mystery."

"Well… I'm going to go change."

"No you're not."

"What?"

"If you change I'll send a picture of you to England, and then Alfred – "

"No why!"

"Well, if you do what I say, I won't.."

"Eh?"

Lars smirked, this would be easy, "Get me some booze, and some breakfast. Fucking hungry."

Grumbling, but deciding to play along, Matthew replied, "Oh yes lord and master."

"And hurry the fuck up, the game's gonna start in a half hour."

Sticking his tongue out, Matthew left the room.

Settling down on the couch, Lars willed his erection away. Go away go away – the thought of pounding into sweet Canadian ass, kept popping up. An ass that curved so nicely against the orange material an ass he had so long denied himself out of respect for the younger nation.

Sure, he had always had an inclination for jailbait, but Matthew Williams made that inclination even worse.

No one knew this, but after the Canadian had liberated him from fucking Germany, he had sort of maybe, got a crush on him.

He tried to hide it, totally hide it, but… whenever he saw the man, the crush seemed to grow. A lot of people seemed to ignore him, but Lars always noticed him. The fresh smile, the youth he seemed to show.

Soft pink nipples peaked up from the cold, just begging to be licked and – no fuck no.

Training his eyes on the TV screen, he let out a growl as a Brazilians player was shown.

Fucking Brazilian's! They were going to be crushed!

A sound from behind, and he turned to see the Canadian enter the room, wearing a maple leaf apron, and carrying a tray full of food.

Setting it down on the coffee table, Lars got an eyeful of that damn orange thong, as well as the teasing glances the apron gave, the clashing red and orange seeming to heighten the mans body.

Wiping his hands on the apron, Matthew muttered something about syrup, before leaving the room.

Eyeing the stack of freshly made pancakes, and large glasses of milk, Lars could feel his mouth begin to water.

A large maple leaf shaped bottle of syrup was placed down, and Matthew hovered staring at Lars expectantly.

"Eat. And take that fucking apron off."

Frowning that his 'cover' was blown, Matthew removed the apron, revealing yet again a rather large bulge pressing against the orange thong.

Sitting down beside the Dutch man, he started to serve out the pancakes, before settling back on the couch, leg propped up, and shovelling maple covered pancakes into his mouth.

Lars couldn't stop casting sly looks, to the toned leg, lifted up, revealing another look at Matthews goodies, the teases of skin making him swallow dryly. Shit did the man not know what he was doing to him? How much he wanted to fuck him?

He watched as Matthew stuffed a large piece into his mouth, syrup dripping onto his chin, and down onto his chest.

He watched as Matthew didn't care, and continue to shove pancakes into his mouth, devouring them as if his life depended on it.

Tearing his eyes away, Lars focused on the start of the game, stuffing pancakes into his mouth, before out of the corner of his eye, he watched Matthew began to lick the plate.

A pink tongue darted out, drawing lines across the plate, even more syrup getting onto his face as he tilted the plate in an attempt to get better access.

The syrup running down the plate, and falling a little more heavily onto his chest.

Making a face of distress, Matthew set the plate down, and began to lick his fingers, slowly savouring the maple syrup.

A grunt, as some spilt onto the orange thong, and Lars' eyes widened as the Canadian bent over in a nearly impossible move, and lifted the orange material up to his mouth, sucking it clean, giving a clear view of his semi hard penis, being unintentionally touched with cleanly licked fingers, the mouth moving and working against the material.

With a puff, the material slipped out, and Matthew leaned back on the couch, panting a little from the exertion, not seeming to care at all, that Lars was now full on hard.

There still lurked some maple syrup on the chest, and lazily, a finger drifted across, picking up the last remains, before being popped into an eager mouth, the Canadian's eyes focused back on the game.

Swallowing dryly, Lars drank some milk, unable to fully focus on the game.

His team were still holding off Brasil, still, nil nil.

"You seem to really like that maple syrup…" came the raw comment.

"Mnnyeah."

Non committal answer.

"You just really turned me on."

"Huh?"

A sly glance, to the flushed Canadian. God, was he unaware that he was so sexy? He must be.

"If you don't want these pictures to get out… I suggest you pull down my shorts, and pour some maple syrup on my hard on, and lick it off."

Violet eyes widened at the suggestion, before a squeaked, "W-wha-wha."

"I'm waiting." Lars stretched his arms out across the back of the couch expectantly.

"You- you're not serious are you?" the whispered voice seemed to be a little strangled, and somewhere, in the back of Lars mind, the part not entirely taken up with 'must have sex now', he felt guilty.

"Deadly."

A gulp, before the Canadian stood up.

Pushing the coffee table out of the way, the man then kneeled before the other, before timid hands reached out and pulled down brilliant orange shorts.

"N-no underwear?" came the surprised question, as the dick proudly sprang forth, already leaking some precum.

"No need for restraint today." Came the comment, as greedy hazel eyes watched the maple syrup carefully get poured onto his dick.

It was strange, to feel the sticky liquid travel down his dick, a nice sensation, before with a tilt, Matthew stopped pouring, his violet eyes suddenly hungry.

A tongue darted out, licking the sticky mass away from the cock. Dragging up from the balls, licking up each drop, swirling, and showing rather unexpected skill.

He couldn't take his eyes away, hell, he couldn't even properly hear what the hell was happening on the television.

The tug of the mouth, the constant suction, fuck, he was close to cumming.

With effort, he managed to snap another picture, unable to stop himself. So erotic, he totally would use this for good memories later.

With a pop, his cock slid out of the Canadian's mouth, the pink tongue darting out onto pink lips, catching the last drops of maple syrup.

And that was about the point where Lars lost his shirt.

The memory of how exactly he lost it, is still vague, but his orange team jersey was on the floor, and the Canadian, was pulled up onto his lap, as he devoured those soft lips.

Hell, he didn't even ask permission, it was just a forceful yank of the soft golden locks, dragging the Canadian up, before a forced connection of their mouths.

But from the way the Canadian was kissing back, he didn't think that there was too much minding.

How the Canadian managed to straddle his lap, he didn't know, all he knew was that that delectable ass was settled right around his dick, the two cheeks pressing it teasingly, the orange thong a thin useless barrier.

Almost teasingly, the Canadian pushed his ass more firmly against the erection, before shifting up, the smaller hands firmly planted on the larger mans shoulders, and forcing the freed erection in between them, the Canadian's reciprocal erection peeking out the tip of the straining thong.

And then, with an ease that Lars would think about later on, the Canadian began to frot.

The material against his dick felt insanely good, the smooth spandex easily defining what is under.

Hot friction, as their tongues entwined, and his grip on the Canadian's ass tightened.

Gods he needed more, something more-

With a yelp of surprise, they tumbled off the couch, Lars hazel eyes gleaming devilishly.

"Wha-?"

Silencing with another kiss, the larger man managed to push the coffee table farther away, giving even more space for his intentions.

Mouth moving down the Canadian's neck, he gently sucked, making sure to leave a mark. There was no way in hell he was going to let Matthew forget this so easily.

"Nng Lars-"

"Yeah?" he lightly licked the hurt area, before with a sigh sat up, and casually grabbed the maple syrup.

"Shouldn't you be watching the game?"

An innocent question, one that his dick did not appreciate.

He glanced over, still, nil nil. Really, he should send Stekelenburg some tulips when all was said and done.

"I am…" he uncapped the syrup, and began to drizzle it over the Canadian's bare chest, "But I'm having a snack as well."

Cheeks flushed, before an indignant "Snack!" was squeaked out.

"A delicious one."

Setting the syrup down, he let his tongue trail the syrup across the Canadian's chest, soft swipes to lick up the sticky mass, focusing on key areas, that made the Canadian moan rather loudly.

Hell, he didn't know the Canadian was super sensitive a few inches under his left nipple, although, he seemed to quite enjoy it when his left nipple got sucked on.

Shit, this man was so delicious, came the thought, as he began to palm that erection.

He didn't have the heart to remove that damned orange thong, it was so delicious to look at.

"Nnn hurry up." Came the moan, as he began to focus near the belly button.

"Hurry up? I've not even completely cleaned you up." Came the innocent reply.

"But… but.. I need you." Came the whimper, as the clever tongue dipped into the belly button, swiping at errant drops of syrup.

"Need me?"

"Y-yes."

His tongue followed the last trail of syrup, before with a grin, he murmured, "How? Show me."

A sound of frustration, before a steady hand shot out and gripped the syrup.

Sitting up, Lars let the Canadian position himself more, watching with heated eyes as the Canadian forcefully grabbed his hand.

Curious, he felt himself become even harder, as syrup trickled onto his fingers, and with a sort of smirk, that strangely became the Canadian's face, watched as a tongue poked out and brushed up against his fingers.

A gleam in the violet eyes, peering up at him, as first one finger was taken in, and then another, the tongue pressing and stroking tantalisingly, sucking in deeper and deeper.

Fingers slowly fell out of the mouth, before being attacked more forcefully, the tongue swiping at every nook and cranny, attempting to get each drop of syrup.

A nibble here and then, a lick, before being fully engulfed, between soft pink lips.

Half lidded eyes looked up at him, whilst his fingers got a particularly strong suck.

He watched his fingers disappear, the drool coming out of the mouth from the load, before with a sigh, the Canadian released the fingers.

The Canadian laid back, spreading his legs, the orange spandex leaving nothing to the imagination, before with a firm tug, the hand was placed right against the Canadian's semi hidden anus, and pressed.

"_Here_."

There was no going back now.

"How much?"

A pout, before another firm push against the anus, "_Badly_… please?"

"Spread wider." He managed to pull his hand out of the Canadian's grasp, and gulped as the legs spread wider, the milky thighs seeming to accentuate the thin material covering the Canadian.

Grabbing the syrup, he poured some onto his hand, before pressing his sticky fingers against the younger nations anus, and pressed them against. Rubbing, not caring if some got onto the material, he pushed aside the fabric, and watched as a sticky finger pushed in, slowly getting swallowed by the hungry muscle.

With his other hand, he palmed the other mans erection, giving him some pleasure with the pain, before he began to slide in another sticky finger.

Gods, maybe using syrup wasn't the best idea, but seeing that golden liquid get swallowed – shit, what the hell, he didn't fucking care.

The Canadian certainly didn't seem to care either.

He couldn't prepare the man fast enough.

But he wanted to take his time, well, be a little slower, it was really, their first time having sex, he didn't really know if the Canadian was a virgin or not – he really didn't want to know at this point, and he didn't want their first memory be of him being too rough.

"Hurry the fuck up you hoser." Came the grumpy groan.

Apparently, the man was not appreciating the time being taken.

Inserting the third finger, he continued to thrust them in and out, trying to find that special spot that he knew would drive the Canadian crazy.

The moment a long drawn out groan came out, he knew he had found it.

A few more thrusts, before being satisfied, and he removed his fingers.

Pouring some more syrup onto his cock, he placed it against the prepared hole, before asking, "You ready?"

"Yes, fuck, yes!" came the reply.

Making sure the material wasn't in the way, he began to push in. Resistance at first, before, the sticky syrup covered dick managed to slide on.

God, maple syrup was probably the worst lubricant ever, came the thought, but the tight heat around him made him forget about that.

Long agonizing moments, before his dick was fully swallowed, resting, panting, their two bodies finally fully connected.

There were cheers in the background from the TV, but they seemed to meld into the buzz of the vuvuzelas, as he slowly began to pull out.

Strong legs wrapped around his waist, without even needing any hint, bringing him in closer, and he began to set up a rhythm, in and out, the sound of their skin rubbing and slapping filling the room.

The material strained against the Canadian's dick, almost strangling, as the man moaned at the welcome invasion, before with a grunt, he came. Semen spurting across his stomach, staining the orange material darker, his muscles spasming around the other male.

A few more thrusts, before Lars came, pumping into the Canadian.

With a groan, he collapsed onto the Canadian, their breathing heavy in the room.

It was only later, when each had sufficiently recovered, that he realized he didn't know who had won the game.

Xxxx

**AN:** Random and not so good, since this was a rush job I decided to randomly do. And no, I do not recommend using maple syrup as a lubricant. At all.


End file.
